Echo
by Meicdon13
Summary: ONESHOT, AU, deathfic :: After his father's death, Kouryuu's having a hard time finding closure. Then he meets a stranger with his father's face. And finds his second chance.


**Disclaimer: **_Saiyuki_ is not mine. I fear for everyone else's sanity if it did.

**Author's Notes: **Heavily inspired by _Arise _by **jeninjapan**. I do not know what I have done with this. Written for the **30 Deathfics LJ Community**, prompt is 17. Redemption. Thanks to **seikochan **for the beta.

* * *

**ECHO**

"_Kouryuu!"_

_He couldn't hear anything after that; his body colliding with the surface of the water with enough force to temporarily stun him. He choked on the saltwater, coughing, trying not to drown._

_Each time he managed to raise his head above the water, he could see his father's dead body a few feet away from him, on the rocks. His braid was splayed out on the gray outcropping as blood dripped into the sea around him._

_High above him, there were other voices shouting._

_**xxx**_

Kouryuu sits up in bed, eyes wild as he stares straight ahead of him. His room is dark and he can barely see, but the image of the blood-tinged seawater is still flashing vividly before his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and tries not to throw up.

Three years and he still hasn't gotten over it.

He lies back down on the bed and counts the cracks on the ceiling of his apartment, wishing that he had been more careful. That he hadn't been reckless, hadn't fallen over the rusty old railing while looking out over the sea. He wishes his father hadn't dived after him. Hadn't landed on the sharp rocks at the base of the cliff.

It's hours later when Kouryuu finally registers that it's time for work. He gets up and shuffles into the bathroom, going through the daily motions without really thinking about anything.

He rarely thinks about anything these days. No point in really caring about anything at all anyway.

He walks down the stairs, out the building and onto the street. He passes the early commuters on their way to wherever and looks up listlessly when he hears someone laughing. He wonders when he last laughed. He can't remember.

It's when he's crossing the street when he sees him.

He sees his father. His father in a business suit, briefcase in hand, walking towards the train station.

Kouryuu's heart stops and for a moment, he thinks that he's gone mad. The stress of work combined with the nightmares has finally gotten to him and he's lost his mind.

Before he can follow that line of thought, the man-who-was-not-his-father had disappeared up the steps to the platform and Kouryuu can't bear _not _to see him even though he isn't his father—isn't and never will be because his father is dead—and he runs down the street, pushing people aside, ignoring their shouts, and running up the flight of stairs.

For one infinitesimal moment, he thinks he has lost sight of the man in the crowd. His head whips around, eyes searching for the gray suit and the incongruous ponytail that went with it.

The train pulls into the platform and Kouryuu sees him, climbing onboard. He leaps over the turnstiles and narrowly misses being crushed between the doors as the train begins to move.

The man with his father's face reaches out to steady him, surprise and worry in his clear gray eyes. "Are you alright?" the man asks.

"No," he whispers.

_**xxx**_

Everyday, he wakes up at the same time and goes to the same train station. Everyday, he waits for the man who looks like his father and gets on board, staying beside him throughout the entire journey. Everyday, the man tries to talk to him and all he does is grunt in response and resist the urge to curl up in his lap as if he were a small child in need of comfort.

It's after one week when the man finally manages to get non-mono-syllabic answers out of him.

"My name is Komyou. What's yours?" he asks politely, gently, and he's reminded of his father's voice and his father's smile and he answers through the lump in his throat.

"Kouryuu."

Komyou asks more questions, always polite and when he dares to look at his face, there's a small smile on the older man's lips. He coaxes more answers from Kouryuu and he doesn't ask why a seventeen-year-old working in an arcade on the other side of the city is riding the train and following him around.

Kouryuu thinks he's about to lose his job. Not showing up or calling to give an excuse will do that. Still, he doesn't care. As long as he's sitting on the train with Komyou and watching the world flit past outside the windows, he's happy. Or as happy as he can be.

Sometimes he falls asleep, head on the man's shoulder, and Komyou shakes him awake with gentle hands when it's time for him to get off. Kouryuu gets off at the next station and begins the lengthy process of going home and lying in bed the rest of the day.

Sometimes he remembers to eat lunch and dinner.

_**xxx**_

"Are you going to be busy tomorrow night? There's an action movie showing and I thought you'd like to see it."

The way the older man said it was the exact same way that his father would have said it and he tries not to cry in front of him—once is enough—and says, "Sure."

They decide to meet up at the fountain near the mall's entrance at seven p.m. and by the time Kouryuu gets there, he feels sick. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Still, he sits down on the edge of the fountain, eyes watching the entrance. He stands up quickly when Komyou appears and walks towards the man, hands in his pockets.

When they're close enough, Komyou reaches out and ruffles his hair affectionately. "Have you eaten—"

"—_dinner yet, Kouryuu? You're a growing boy and you—"_

"—need food."

"I haven't," he admits, eyes trained onto the marble under his scuffed sneakers. He lets himself be steered towards the nearest pizza place and obediently eats everything placed in front of him.

While they eat, Komyou keeps talking to him, asking him questions and telling him funny stories and making him feel strangely empty because he realizes that the man isn't _exactly _like his father.

His father wore his hair in a braid but Komyou has a ponytail. His father would eat his pizza with his hands but Komyou cuts his up with his knife and uses his fork. His father tucked his shirt into his pants but Komyou doesn't.

He realizes that Komyou maybe isn't that much older than him. Five years at most.

"Kouryuu, the movie's about to start. Want to get going or do you want dessert?"

"I'm full. Let's go."

Komyou pays for the bill and refuses to split it with him. As the escalator moves up, Kouryuu looks over the side at the other mall-goers and a small part of him wishes that he could have a normal life like the majority of them.

The movie was good and the company was great. By the time they exit the mall, it's raining and Kouryuu frowns up at the sky and thinks that he should have brought his umbrella with him.

"I've got a car," Komyou says, breaking into his thoughts. "I could drive you home, if it's okay with you."

"Wouldn't you be going out of your way?"

"I don't mind." Komyou smiles at him and in that moment, he looks so much like his father that Kouryuu barely stops himself from hugging him and crying on his chest and telling him how much he's missed him. He doesn't because Komyou's _not _his father.

He _isn't_.

He accepts the offer.

By the time they reach his apartment, the rain's falling down hard enough to make Kouryuu wonder why the windows haven't broken yet. The man on the radio says there's a storm coming in and advises people to stay off the roads.

"_Zero _visibility," he drawls. "And the roads're probably _slick _as Hell. Best to stay indoors. Don't want any accidents, _do we_?"

Kouryuu refuses to let Komyou drive home. He crosses his arms and glares at the older man until he gives in and decides to spend the night at the teen's place.

The short run to the building's front door effectively soaks them both. Komyou sneezes as Kouryuu opens the door to his apartment and he accepts the towel he's handed gratefully.

They take turns using the bathroom and Kouryuu brings out some of his father's old clothes from where he's kept them in the back of his closet. The pajama bottoms are a bit too long but Komyou says it's fine.

When Kouryuu comes out of the bathroom wearing his customary sleeping shorts and shirt, he finds the older man standing at the window and watching the rain pounding on the pavement. Lightning flashes across the sky and thunder follows.

Komyou's let his hair down.

"Whose are these?" he asks curiously, running a hand down the material of the borrowed pajamas.

"They were my father's."

_Were_. Komyou says, very softly, "Oh."

"You can have the bed," Kouryuu says suddenly, turning around and pulling down the covers.

"Where will you sleep?"

"The floor's fine—"

Komyou interrupts him. "I couldn't possibly kick you out of your own bed."

What follows isn't quite an argument and if it had been another person, Kouryuu would have taken the entire thing up to a shouting match. Hell, if it had been another person, Kouryuu wouldn't even have bothered following him onto the train that first day.

He finally ends up sharing the small bed with Komyou, lying back-to-back with him, and wonders how that happened.

_**xxx**_

"Don't you think a braid would look better?"

It's an innocent enough suggestion but there's something like annoyance in Komyou's eyes though he just smiles and says, "I don't know how to braid my hair."

Kouryuu's been hinting at a lot of small things over the past few weeks, trying to mold Komyou to fit the memory of his father. The older man gave in to most of the requests but he was obviously beginning to get irritated with the entire thing.

Kouryuu knows that he's seen the only picture in the entire apartment, the one where his father's holding a baby Kouryuu in his arms and smiling at the camera. His mother had taken the photo, just a week before she left for good.

"I could do it for you," he insists, tugging on Komyou's wrist so that he'll sit on the edge of the bed.

There's something in those gray eyes but the older man gives in and soon, the teen's tying up the braid with one of his father's hair ties.

"Well?" Komyou asks, shifting so that he's facing him.

He can't find his voice to say anything but Komyou must have seen something on his face because he reaches out to run his hand gently through Kouryuu's hair, a wistful expression on his face.

"Do I look that bad that I've rendered you speechless?" he jokes, trying to break the tension.

Kouryuu swallows and says, "You look perfect."

_**xxx**_

They're standing near the edge of a cliff, watching the waves crashing against the rocks far down below. The railing that's supposed to protect them is old and rusty and Kouryuu thinks that if he pushes hard enough, it'll crumble and fall. He doesn't, though. He just leans back and rests his elbows on them.

There aren't any other people on the cliff. The wind that's blowing is cold and sharp with the tang of the saltwater below them. A few strands of Komyou's hair have escaped from his braid and the ends of his scarf whip around him as he looks out over the horizon.

"This was where my father died," he says conversationally. The older man jerks and looks at him. Kouryuu doesn't make eye contact as he goes on. "I fell over the railing and he jumped after me. I landed in the water. He landed on the rocks."

"I—"

"Komyou," he whispers, "be my second chance."

Before Komyou can react, Kouryuu leans back even more and jumps. He falls headfirst over the rusty rails and if Komyou had been a split-second faster, he might have been able to grab his ankle.

Kouryuu closes his eyes and falls.

As he hits the rocks, he congratulates himself on his aim.


End file.
